


assimilation

by possiblyaperson



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, the ship is only subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29275290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/possiblyaperson/pseuds/possiblyaperson
Summary: In which Ralph joins Jack's tribe.
Relationships: Jack Merridew/Ralph
Kudos: 17





	assimilation

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this a while back for school ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The conch blew shrilly across the island, and Piggy and Samneric glanced up. Cheeks flushed, Ralph inhaled and passed the conch to Piggy. 

“I’ll make them see reason,” Piggy promised. “We’re not savages. We’re proper British boys. I’ll make ‘em remember that, that they want to be rescued, and they’ll give us back my glasses.” 

Sam fidgeted. “And if they refuse—” 

“—and chase us out—” 

“They won’t,” Piggy said firmly. “I’m weaker than them, but I have the conch. So they’ll listen. They’ll listen and see that I’m right, and they’ll do the right thing. And we’ll get our fire back, and we’ll be rescued.” 

“They won’t,” Ralph said dully. He breathed in. “Jack’s too…” Unable to find the right word, he made a violent slashing gesture. “Gone. He’s too far gone to listen to reason.” 

“Don’t know until you try,” Piggy insisted. “They want to be rescued, just like us.” 

Ralph kicked the ground. “What’s the point? If they’re just going to be like  _ that, _ then what’s the point?” 

“The point?” Piggy scrunched his face up. “The point’s the fire. So we can get rescued. Like you’re always saying, Ralph, we need the smoke or else we can’t—" 

“I know that,” Ralph snapped, and turned away. “Let’s get our fire back.” 

* * *

The sand burned and clung to Ralph’s feet, and he brought his hand up to brush his wispy hair out of his face. The sand stung his eyes, and the suns’ rays scorched his back. Piggy trailed behind him, clutching onto the conch with a twin on either side of him to guide him by the shoulders. 

A faint trail of smoke signaled where Jack’s camp lay, creeping upwards and disappearing into the pale blue sky. 

Before they could enter, a savage blocked them, tapping his spear erratically on the ground. “What are you doing?” he asked, hazel eyes peering out from a mess of black and green paint. “You’re not supposed to be here.” 

“We’ve come here on important business,” Sam said, puffing out his chest. 

“Very important business,” Eric emphasized. 

“Where’s Jack?” Ralph asked, scanning the crowd of masked faces and searching for the telltale red hair and blue eyes. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the savage repeated, lips thinning. “Jack said, you need to scram or else he’ll—" 

Piggy blew the conch, and the savage stepped back. A sea of masked eyes gathered around them, and whispers broke out through the swarm of boys, but Piggy spoke above it. 

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he said. “You chose Ralph as your chief, you chose him, but none of you listened and now you’re like this. Who’s going to get rescued like this, huh? You’re goofing off and playing around, even though you should know better. And then you stole my glasses, and now there’s no signal fire. Don’t you want to be rescued? Don’t you? Because—“ 

“What’s going on here?” 

Ralph turned. A savage stalked out, brandishing a spear, but he had Jack’s light blue eyes behind the messy clay mask and Jack’s red hair tied up behind him. 

“Give me back my specs,” Piggy demanded. “You’re just a coward, is what you are, taking advantage of me when I’m weaker than you and then taking my glasses away, too. You should be ashamed of yourself. What’s your parents going to think, when they find out what you’ve—" 

“Silence,” Jack ordered, and Piggy shut up, even as his chubby fingers gripped tightly onto the conch shell. “Seize them.” 

Footsteps struck the ground on either side of Ralph, and Piggy’s cry rang out behind him. Jack stepped forward and pointed the tip of his own spear, crusted over with pig blood, at Ralph’s throat. 

“This is our side of the island,” he proclaimed. “You could’ve stayed back there, and we’d have let you, but you chose to challenge me. So you’re going to get what’s coming to you.” Jack motioned. “Roger, bring me the—” 

“Stop it!” Ralph yelled. “We didn’t come here to argue with you. We came here to join you.” 

“Ralph, what are you doing?” Piggy cried out. “We said we were going to take my specs back, didn’t we?” 

“We never said—" 

“We’re not going to—" 

Ralph shook his head, and they fell silent. “We’ll join your tribe, and in return, let us keep the signal fire going. That’s all.” 

Roger crossed his arms. “Why should—" 

“Shut up,” Jack ordered, and stared Ralph in the eyes. “You can join my tribe, but I have a few conditions of my own.” 

Ralph nodded. 

“You won’t be allowed use of the glasses,” Jack said. “If the fire needs lighting, then Roger will come and light it for you.” 

“I need them to see!” Piggy protested. “You can’t just—" 

“Piggy, shut up,” Ralph said quietly. 

Jack smirked behind his mask of clay. “Second, I’m your chief. You will obey everything I say, without question.” 

“Okay,” Ralph said, before Piggy or Samneric had a chance to speak. 

Jack lowered the spear. “Piggy, give me the conch.” 

“I didn’t agree to this,” Piggy said. “I won’t—” He spluttered. “Not to the likes of you—" 

“Give it,” Ralph said. 

Piggy hesitated before holding out the conch, arms angled a little too far to the left. Jack stalked forward and snatched the conch from him, holding it up for the crowd to see. 

“Don’t need this anymore,” he said, and threw it to the ground. He stomped on the conch’s fragments, grinding it into the dirt, and the crowd of savages began to clap. 

* * *

The savages kept their paint in a corner of the camp, reds and greens and blacks, all packed in coconut shells. The clay smeared on the edges of the shells, and blotches of color covered the dirt beneath them. 

“Do it like mine,” Jack ordered, “but without the second charcoal line.” He pointed to the line coming from his left ear. “This one means that I’m chief. You can’t have it.” 

Ralph dipped his finger into the coconut shell filled with green clay and started to smear it against his cheek. The paint clung to his skin, lumpy and wet. 

“You’re too slow,” Jack said, scooping out the paint by the handful and spreading it across Ralph’s forehead. Ralph finished his other cheek, and Jack took the lump of charcoal and dragged it across Ralph’s face, drawing a line from his right ear, under his mouth, to his left jaw. 

His mouth tasted of charcoal dust, but Ralph swallowed and said, “Thank you.” 

“You’re one of us, now,” Jack said, and turned to survey the other three. 

Samneric had managed to work together and cover their faces, but Jack frowned when he looked at Piggy. “You drew the charcoal line wrong,” he said. 

“Well, I couldn’t know that, could I?” Piggy said. “I heard you say we only needed one line, but you didn’t say where it would go. Why does it matter, anyways? It’s not like I want your dumb—" 

Jack splashed a coconut shell filled with water over Piggy’s face. The clay dripped down, dribbling down his neck. Piggy spluttered and wiped the clay from his eyes. 

“Do it again,” Jack ordered. “Without any charcoal, this time.” 

“I don’t care about your stupid charcoal,” Piggy muttered, but reached for the clay and began to repaint his mask. 

* * *

Ralph fed twigs to the fire, and the fire lapped it up, flickering and enveloping the wood in black. His feet curled into the mountain’s soil, and he inhaled. 

Piggy slumped off to the side, eyes hazily unfocused from where he rested on a tree stump. 

“Was it worth it, Ralph?” he asked, voice wobbling. “You’ve given that brute control over us, and now there’s nothing we can do if he gets bored of insulting me and tries to kill us, instead. What if we turn out like Simon did?” 

“At least we have the fire,” Ralph said. “None of this will matter when we get rescued.” 

Piggy curled up. “You were a better leader, Ralph. I wish things could have stayed like that.” 

“No one else seems to think so,” Ralph said, tossing another branch into the fire. “Even though I was chief first, Jack took that from me, too.” 

“He’s not like you are, Ralph,” Piggy said. “All he cares about is hunting and breaking things and having fun. You actually wanted us to be rescued.” 

“And we will be rescued,” Ralph said. “Because we have the fire, now. He won’t take it away from us again.” 

* * *

The fire smoldered, smoke billowing and climbing to the clouds, but Samneric shook Ralph awake and gestured. 

Roger stared at him, eyes stony under his face paint. “The chief wants to see you, Ralph,” he said, and waved his spear. “Be quick about it.” 

Ralph turned to Samneric, and they both nodded, so he stood up. “Take care of the fire,” he said, and followed Roger down the mountain. 

The tribe’s campfire smoke beckoned before Ralph saw the camp itself, but the smoke wavered in the wind, short and feeble. Ralph glanced back and grinned when he saw the smoke from his signal fire, billowing from atop the mountain. 

Childish eyes under grotesque masks watched them as they walked through Jack’s makeshift settlement. Roger pounded the ground with the end of his spear every other step he took, and Ralph straightened his back and kept his eyes focused forward. 

Jack lounged on a blood-stained carpet of pig hide, the two streaks of charcoal smeared on his face. He gestured, and Ralph kneeled before him. 

“Why did you call me here?” Ralph asked. 

“You’re my subject,” Jack said, “so I need to check on you. You’ll have daily reports from now on.” 

Ralph nodded stiffly. “The fire’s still alive. You can see it from here, and we haven’t needed to use the glasses again.” He fidgeted. “And we couldn’t have done it if we had to go and find our own food. So thanks.” 

“And?” Jack prodded. 

“And what?” 

“What’s the point?” Jack asked. “I thought you would be more fun when I met you, but that fire’s been all you’ve thought about, almost ever since you got here.” 

“The point is the smoke,” Ralph said. “So we can—" He faltered. “So we can be rescued.” 

“But it’s fun here,” Jack said. “More fun than it ever has been back there. We can take care of ourselves.” 

“But there are so many things that we’ll never get here,” Ralph said. He paused. “Like chocolate, and playgrounds, and books. Fun things, like toys and games and your choir performances. And our parents are waiting for us.” 

“Who cares about all of that?” Jack huffed. “There were more annoying things than good things. Teachers, parents, they were always nagging us, forcing us to do the stuff that only they cared about. I don’t want any of their dumb rules.” He leaned forward. “Ralph, you should come hunting with me. Become a real part of the tribe. You don’t need to bother with the signal fire anymore.” 

“It’s not just that,” Ralph said. “They also have blankets, and heating, and houses that can actually keep the cold out. We’re doing fine, now, with your hunting and all, but what are we going to do when winter comes ‘round?” 

“We’ll manage,” Jack growled. “You think I can’t do it? You think I can’t do something the grown-ups can do?” He stood up. “You’re dismissed. Roger, escort him back to the signal fire.” 

* * *

Sweaty hands shook Ralph awake, and he rubbed his eyes. Illuminated by the firelight, Samneric grinned down at him. The stars shimmered in the night sky, and shadows flickered on the ground with every move the fire made. 

“The sky’s still dark,” Ralph mumbled. “I already did my shift, remember?” 

“No, it’s not that,” Sam said. 

“It’s the beastie!” Eric shouted. 

“One of the littluns saw it—" 

“—in the water—" 

“—coming straight towards us!” 

Ralph paused. “Let’s check it out,” he decided. 

The twins exchanged glances. 

“That’s what we were thinking!” Sam said. 

“I knew you would get it, Ralph,” Eric said. 

“I expect it’s all rubbish, anyways,” Piggy said. “Don’t waste your time on that nonsense. We should be taking care of the fire. Right, Ralph?” 

“It’ll only be for a little while,” Ralph said. 

Sam grinned. “You don’t have to come—” 

“—if you’re a coward!” 

Piggy huffed. “You don’t have to be so pushy.” He held his hands out. “Take me with you.” 

* * *

The “beastie” loomed on the horizon. Enveloped in the shadow of the night sky, it approached ever closer, limbs splayed rigidly from the top of its body. But as he squinted, Ralph realized that masts and sails protruded from the body, not limbs. 

“It’s a ship!” he whispered, spinning around to face the others. He flung his hands out. “They saw us! Our smoke, they saw it! We’re going to be rescued!” 

Piggy raised his hand to his forehead and squinted into the distance before looking down. “I hope you’re right, Ralph. It’s about time they came for us.” 

“Where is it?” 

Jack sprinted out of the forest with a spear in hand and an entourage of masked boys following behind him in formation, twigs cracking underfoot. “Let me at it,” he hissed. “I’ll kill it. I’ll show it what it gets, trying to mess with Jack Merridew. We’ve been living with it for far too long. I’ll—” 

“It’s a ship,” Ralph said, breathlessly. 

Jack whirled around to stare at him before scowling and spitting onto the ground. “I was hoping to see its blood.” 

“Jack, it’s a ship!” Ralph cried, and his face split into a grin. “We’re going to be rescued!” 

Jack grimaced and turned to his hunters. “Gather everyone else and tell them to meet by the beach. Tell them that a ship’s coming.” 

They nodded and dashed back into the forest, while Ralph began to rub the mask off his face. The clay flaked off easily, while his unruly fingernails chipped off the rest, and he wiped the charcoal streak off on his arm. 

Jack set down the make-shift spear and tapped his foot, refusing to remove his mask even as Piggy and Samneric washed off their faces. 

The rest of the boys trailed into the beach. They fidgeted and ran around and teetered on the logs like they did in the assemblies, but they muttered, now, too, shrieking to themselves and exchanging loud whispers. 

The ship approached the beach, close enough to see every individual sail, and one of the littluns started to cry. One after another, the other boys joined in, wailing and bawling into the starry night sky. 

Ralph rubbed his eyes, blinking and staring at his hands when they came away wet with tears. 

The ship docked, and a grown-up disembarked. He surveyed the crowd of crying children and winced. “What are you doing?” he asked. “Don’t you have any grown-ups?” 

Ralph shook his head. 

The officer pressed a hand to his temple and sighed. He raised his voice to address the crowd of crying children. “Don’t worry,” he called stiffly. “You’re safe now. Come aboard.” 

The crying increased at the invitation, but the boys started to scramble up into the ship, pushing and tripping over each other in order to board first. Samneric guided Piggy up the steps after the rest of the boys boarded, and Ralph followed them. 

Halfway up the gangway, Ralph turned back. Jack stood alone on the beach, hands gripped tightly around his crudely made spear. 

“Come on,” Ralph insisted. “You’re being slow.” 

“…I wanted to stay here,” Jack admitted, eyes downcast. “Forever.” 

But even still, he laid down his spear and followed Ralph into the ship, where they sailed away from the deserted island until it was no more than a blip in the horizon. 


End file.
